Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Thirsty?: A Story of Traffic
20 oz bottles. It's that large-drink-your-day's-worth-of-water-from-one-bottle sized bottle. It hit him hard enough to bounce off and arc back over the middle lane and back towards the left lane, the bottle eventually resting for a second before being crushed by oncoming tires.
It's a physics miracle.
The truck driver? Not happy about this turn of events. The car driver had been yelling something as he threw the bottle--one-handed, I might add. The truck driver had been yelling back. He stopped mid-yell as the bottle hit him and he punched at it to get it away.
Not to be treated in such a manner, the truck driver decides that his truck is not a truck but is also a tiny sporty coup. In this delusion, he continues waving his arm out his open window and yelling whatever it is he's been yelling as he ignores the lines in the road and acts as if the Belt Parkway is now one very wide lane meant for him only. He starts weaving in and out of cars, chasing down the guy in the sports coup.
The truck--by another miracle--holds its own and almost catches up to the car.
Eddie and I in our Cruz have turned our attention away from our late-day groove towards a play by play of our live and up-close version of Cannonball Run: The Water Bottle Debacle. We lose sight of the car and the truck around a curve, but then I see the truck ahead of us, getting off at our exit.
Eddie speeds up to the exit to follow the truck, but the light at the end of the street is green and the truck is long gone. We don't know the fate of the car, but I'm guessing it either made it to the Verrazano before the truck could catch it or it got off at our exit before the truck and the truck is still hunting him down, perhaps to thank him for the water. Maybe that's what he'd been yelling and why he'd been chasing: manners.